She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. A message was dispatched from Florence that she was to again receive her future husband. He was all alone, like herself. There was nothing to be learned from her face. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. I came to see you on my own account. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain.
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